Chapter Text
Shockingly, their friendship withstood the pressure.
And there was a pretty substantial amount of pushback from their peers. From everyone, really.
From Claire’s friends in their pressed blouses and shiny shoes, whispering behind their hands. From Bender’s stoner buddies jeering and making rude gestures. From Andy’s teamates pushing past him in the hallway, muttering, inviting him out to house parties less and less often. Everyone saying whatever the hell they wanted about Allison. Brian’s friends calling him a traitor, teachers shaking their heads, murmuring about the wrong crowd, when they don’t know that the only reason he found the strength to survive was because of them, that without this friendship he would’ve—
“Brian?”
The field behind the school stretches out from where he’s sitting on the roof. He figures it’s mostly desperation keeping them together.
“Hey, Claire.”
“What are you doing out here?” She says, the accusation in her tone poorly masking the concern.
“You don’t have to worry, Claire. I’m not gonna jump.”
She flinches. “I wasn’t—!”
“It’s okay, Claire.” He twists around from his spot on the ledge. He makes sure he has eye contact before smiling at her.
“I have you guys now.”
She swallows.
———
He should’ve clarified.
It’s his desperation, not anyone else’s, that’s keeping their friendship alive. Claire has her future housewives, Andy has his team, Bender has his stoners, and Allison doesn’t seem to want for anybody at all.
It’s not like Brian doesn’t know anyone— It’s just that the breakfast club saved him when no one else did. When no one else could.
And he knew that the meaninglessness might go away. He knew everything might be okay. He also knew that he was destined to be miserable for the rest of his life. He was going to drift apart from them like everyone does, get a job in something high-level, maybe marry, and always be staring backwards towards these moments where he finally felt like a real person, someone people see. Someone that only existed with the Breakfast Club. Someone who would die at the same time as their friendship.
And then he remembered the initial horror and disbelief on their faces when he told them about why he was there. The fear in their eyes, their brittle smiles, careful touches, shaking hands.
He saw their hearts rending under the surface.
Emotions people would act for.
He saw his opportunity to make them stay and he took it.
———
Bender does not like any of this pussy shit.
Bender doesn’t want to be here. Bender desperately needs a smoke. Bender should not be babysitting their local suicide risk during a panic attack. His palms sweat. It’s in his nature to be a dick, to slap people in the face when they’re vulnerable. But Brian brought a gun to school and now he’s collapsed in the locker room after another shop class. Brian isn’t someone who he can knock off a high horse.
Bender doesn’t know how to do this shit.
“I don’t know how to do this shit,” he says, crouching to Brian’s level where he’s leaning against the gym lockers.
Brian wheezes on the floor. Knowing what he knows about nerds, he probably has fucking asthma or something and he’ll actually die if Bender doesn’t help him, and then Bender will get thrown in goddamn jail.
“I mean, really, look—“ he feels stupid saying it, but: “match my breathing?”
Brian’s eyes slide towards him, reddish and flicking, and he clumsily sucks in a breath, and another, and another. They sit like that for ages, Bender’s knees aching. He’s getting lightheaded from the exaggerated slow breaths. He mutters vague encouragements along the way, “that’s right,” and “in and out, that’s not so bad, is it?” and “good.”
Eventually, Brian leans his head back on the lockers, his breathing less labored and cheeks less flushed. Bender looks away.
“Hey,” Brian says, voice ragged. “I’m really grateful, for you guys,” his sweat is sticking his hair to his forehead, and his eyes are still red-rimmed. He says, “Thank you.”
And Bender doesn’t know how to deal with that shit, either.
———
Claire is starting to get kind of pissed off, which is normal, commonplace. What’s not normal is that she can’t figure out what’s bothering her.
She’s been preoccupied since the breakfast club formed. Thinking a lot more about what she was gonna do with graduation, with her grades, with herself. Thinking a lot less about the girls her age and the way they’ve started talking.
Maybe she’s annoyed because of how easily the shackles of their approval slipped off. How easy it was to live in the after when letting go was so hard, maybe the hardest thing she’s ever done. Harder than dealing with her parents using her as evidence in their argumentation, and harder than telling Bender to get out when he wouldn’t stop begging— But perhaps easier than listening to Brian promising her things with darting, haunted eyes.
The pen in her hand starts to creak dangerously. She sets it down and reorganizes all of them by color.
She knows what’s bothering her. She just can’t do anything about it.
———
Andy’s lungs are screaming at him, but if he doesn’t finish this run fast enough, then his dad will too.
He takes his usual route through the park and kicks the rocks in his path whenever he sees them. He started a little later than usual, and the sun’s setting rays keep blinding him. He’s probably around 15 minutes now. “Hey, dickweed! What are you running from?”
The voice is unfamiliar. He looks up, trying to blink the sweat and sun from his eyes. He sees Bender perched on a picnic table, pot in hand with his long-haired friends lounging around him. His gaze is flinty, but he’s not looking at Andy. He murmurs something to one of his friends. Andy figures that’s probably the guy who yelled, based off of his acerbic stare. The guy snaps something back and Bender sets a heavy hand on his shoulder.
He has to keep running, and he’s not gonna rubberneck to see what that was about, so he moves on. No one jeers behind him, though.
———
Allison is hiding from Brian.
She’s surreptitiously tearing through a cereal sandwich behind the bleachers. He’s been trying to hunt her down to have lunch with her on Fridays. It’s clearly a part of his bid to keep the breakfast club Together At All Costs.
She narrows her eyes. He can keep his lunches with the Summa Cum Laude kids. He doesn’t want to eat lunch with her. He’s just desperate. She was over it the very first day he sought her out. Especially because she’s basically all he could get. The others have things they need to do, appearances to keep up, joints to smoke. Being picked last isn’t being picked at all.
Besides, she has another landscape she wanted to finish. She sets her lunch aside. This one is another winter scene, this one based off of what she remembers of New York, when her parents still brought her on vacation with them. She uncaps her pen and starts shading in the night sky.
———
It’s May and the weather is finally looking up. After school, Andy and Allison are walking Brian to his car, holding hands. The parking lot is long. They get a few looks, but for the most part Andy’s sports have been leaving them alone. Mostly they wonder when Andy’ll get tired of this and get back to normal. Andy tips his head towards the sky while Allison swings their hands. Brian softly sighs, adjusting his bag. Wind from passing cars gently buffets them and the grass they walk on.
Claire’s BMW pulls up and skirts to a stop next to them. Her window rolls down.
“Hey, bozos!” Bender shouts, slinging his arm out the window, a cigarette dangling from his hand.
“Hey, asshole!” Andy yells back, laughing.
“Well? Aren’t you guys getting in?” Claire asks, squinting in the light. Bender lounges back into shotgun, sunglasses dipping low over his nose and cheeks.
Allison tips her head back and blows at her bangs. Andy tugs her into the car, and Brian follows behind.
———
The sunny field they park at is miles from town, bright and unowned. They’ve unloaded the supplies Claire packed in the back this morning.
“Hey, Bender! A little help with the blanket here?” Andy says, struggling with a huge, checkered, red-and-white quilt.
Bender gets up from where he was sprawled out in the grass.
“What, can’t handle it, shortstack?”
“Shut the hell up.”
They squabble while Allison and Claire come up the hill with the baskets. Allison is overdressed for the weather, and she swings her basket to the ground with a huff. Claire rolls her eyes and starts digging through the one she’s holding. Brian is feebly trying to break up Bender and Andy’s impending fistfight when Claire’s sharp voice shoots between them.
“Boys! Look.”
Claire pulls a bottle out of the basket and holds it up triumphantly.
“I stole some wine from my mother’s cabinet.”
A manic smile cuts across Allison’s face. She holds out her hand expectantly and Claire gives her the bottle.
Brian groans. “Not you too, Claire! I have a hard enough time convincing my parents you guys aren’t degenerates as it is…”
Andy looks at Claire with a hint of concern in his brow. He says, “You sure it’s okay?”
“Yeah, we wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with mother dearest when she finally comes back from the Caribbean, right?” Bender says from where he’s sprawled out on the ground again, this time tangled up with the blanket. Allison is looking through the bottle like a telescope towards Claire. Claire rolls her eyes.
“I doubt she’ll even notice, guys, it’s fine.” She says, plopping down on the corner of quilt that Bender isn’t wrapped up in. He pokes her and she shrieks.
“Don’t do that, John!”
“And stop hogging the blanket!” Andy gripes, suddenly reminded of their argument.
“Sorry, honey.” Bender says, saccharine. Allison crouches like a frog and tugs Bender. He murderously lets some of it loose for her to sit on. Allison gestures with the bottle for Brian to come sit as well. Bender grabs the bottle out of her hands.
“Do we have a bottle opener?” Bender asks, squinting at it.
Claire’s lips slowly tighten in a pucker and Allison immediately starts cackling. Andy’s upturned eyes betray amusement.
“It’s okay, princess— you’re new to the criminal life.” Bender consoles, patting her knee.
“Shut up!” Claire snipes. “You’ll see how funny it is when we get thirsty!”
“Yeah Claire, it’s pretty gross when you’re dehydrated, right?” Bender deadpans.
She shrieks, tackling him while he laughs uproariously. Brian, Allison and Andy snicker at one another quietly while the fight goes on in the background.
Brian picks at his lip absentmindedly. “Uh— I brought waters. And my mom made like, ten ham sandwiches.”
“Ten?” Andy prompts.
“Yeah, she’s kind of on a protein kick right now, but it’s kinda weird because she didn’t consult a dietitian or anything, she went and started buying up the entire deli aisle, and now it’s this whole thing with my family—“
———
Because thinking about his future equates to thinking about his dad’s past, Andy tries to avoid it.
“Jesus, sport! I said let loose a little, not blow off practice to hang out with the local deadbeats! No school is gonna give a scholarship to a discipline case!”
Of course, it’s kind of hard to ignore when it’s being screamed at him.
“Dad, it’s just messing around—“
It was a warm March this year, but still not awesome to be out in when you didn’t have any shoes on. Lo and behold, his mom opened the screen door, golden light spreading out in the warm night.
She held his tennis shoes.
“Maybe it’s best if you let your father cool off for awhile.” She looked into his eyes. He stared back. He understood that she didn’t want this. He turned away and strolled away into the shadows.
The loud shuttering roll of the screen door closing echoed behind him.
He found himself in front of Bender’s house. His closest neighbor, annoyingly. Well, there were some wrestling guys closer, but they weren’t— they weren’t club.
He peered into the windows of Bender’s house from the street. His parent’s bedroom was dark. He was probably good. Andy made his way to Bender’s window, dewy ground painting his shoes with glittery droplets. He was glad he had his shoes.
He tapped out a quiet melody onto Bender’s window. He waited. He didn’t try again.
Slowly the curtains shift to reveal John’s silhouette. He leaned against the windowsill within, hair tipping into his face. His hands ran across the bottom of the sill, slowly lifting, silent in the night. Andy felt overly aware of his body, staring and seperate.
The window was open. Andy didn’t try to talk. John manovered his body out of the window, dropping softly on the grass. Andy let the hand he had reached out fall back to his side. John shuts his window again, turns, and wordlessly wraps his arms around him.
So different than how they were when they met, when every word was a dagger and any touch cut.
Look, he doesn’t exactly know when it— when it became a thing— but they all hug now and that’s that. He’s familiar with all of their scents, Bender’s predictable cigarettes and marijuana, Claire’s perfume, Brian’s sweat and pencil shavings, Allison’s candy breath, blending together until Andy can’t extricate the combination from the idea of home.
The arms let go, but Bender leads him further into the night. They make their way across the yard. Down the street. Into the forest. Until finally they’re far away enough and Bender smiles, teeth glinting in the moonlight, says:
“Where do you want to go?”